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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27304177">OCtober Writing Prompt Collection</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinelaborenihil/pseuds/Sinelaborenihil'>Sinelaborenihil</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Nightmares, OC-tober writing prompts, Suicidal Thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:40:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,469</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27304177</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinelaborenihil/pseuds/Sinelaborenihil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As those who follow my fic "The Wolf You Feed" know, I have been struggling lately with finding the emotional bandwidth to write. Because of that I was quite excited when a fellow DA fan shared this series of prompts https://oc-growth-and-development.tumblr.com/. I knew that these were little things that I could focus on to keep the writing muscle engaged, as it were, while also allowing me to flesh out little moments in the lives of my OCs. I really tried to stick to only writing from the perspectives on my 4 main OCs, though Chapter/Prompt 13 is the one where I allowed myself to deviate a little. These range in content from super soft and fluffy to some very dark themes and there are two chapters that do have TWs on them. </p><p>These are definitely all pretty roughly sketched out and fairly short but the goal was really just to write as close to every day as I could. Even though this was mostly just a creative exercise for myself, I still hope that they are a fun read!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Lavellan/Solas, Fenris/Female Hawke, The Iron Bull &amp; Female Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Zevran Arainai/Female Surana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Sunrise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>3/28/21 Edit</p><p>That feeling when you realize you only ever posted the first chapter and had the rest sitting unpublished. FACEPALM. These were all done in October, I'm just bad at life apparently.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Saoirse Hawke rolled over with a groan, blinking owlishly as the early morning light slanted across her face. It was far, far too early. Especially after last night. She’d been a farmer once what felt like a lifetime before. Mornings had been a part of the bargain.<br/>
</p>
<p>But she was a champion now. The Champion as a matter of fucking fact. Shouldn’t a champion be able to sleep in?<br/>
</p>
<p>Fuck her head hurt.<br/>
</p>
<p>There had been rather a lot of wine the night before. Wine, and then whisky, and then something clear and harsh because Isabela had dared her.<br/>
</p>
<p>She looked down and saw she was wearing her pajamas and she pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to remember how she’d gotten home. She remembered the streets of Kirkwall, dark and shadowed.<br/>
</p>
<p>And singing.<br/>
</p>
<p>Oh Maker, she’d been singing harvest songs through the streets of Hightown.<br/>
</p>
<p>“Fuck!” Hawke groaned.<br/>
</p>
<p>“Good morning to you too,” Fenris’ voice said from over by the embers of the fire.<br/>
</p>
<p>Hawke jumped and glanced over, noticing immediately that he looked like he’d already gone and trained with the guards, as well as bathed. He was a deplorable morning person, Fenris. Though given how he had come to be one, she could hardly resent him for it.<br/>
</p>
<p>She could, however, resent the distinctly amused look on his face.<br/>
</p>
<p>“How are you feeling?” he asked, rising with a languid stretch that, even in her state of misery, made her heart beat faster.<br/>
</p>
<p>“Fucking awful.”<br/>
</p>
<p>“Mmm,” he replied, going to the sideboard and pouring something that steamed into an earthenware mug. When he approached Hawke got the distinct scent of black tea with cream and when she took a sip the heavily sugared brew tasted like absolute bliss.<br/>
</p>
<p>“You are a fucking treasure,” she said, smiling up at him.<br/>
</p>
<p>“So you said last night,” he replied, sitting down next to her on the bed. “I’m surprised you’re up after all of that. It’s scarcely past sunrise.” He raised a dark eyebrow. “We could go and watch it together, if you’d like.”<br/>
</p>
<p>“I’d rather die.” She peered at him, wincing as it made her head throb. “Was I...singing last night?”<br/>
</p>
<p>Fenris grinned at her. “The whole way back from the Hanged Man.”<br/>
</p>
<p>“I’m surprised you didn’t leave me in an alley.”<br/>
</p>
<p>“It was quite useful,” Fenris said. “Your caterwauling scared off the usual evening thugs. It was an otherwise quiet walk home.” He grew serious, reaching out and caressing her cheek. “All the same, I would just as soon not repeat it anytime soon. You were...very drunk.” His jade eyes were filled with concern. “I know that you are worried about the tensions between mages and templars, Hawke, and what it will do to Kirkwall, but you can’t help anyone if you are dead in the gutter.”<br/>
</p>
<p>“You’d never let that happen.”<br/>
</p>
<p>“No,” Fenris agreed, and there was something wild and dark in his eyes when they met hers.<br/>
</p>
<p>Hawke sighed, guilt making her already unsettled stomach roll over. “I’m sorry, Fenris,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to worry you. Things got out of hand.”<br/>
</p>
<p>He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I only want you to be safe,” he said, putting his hand over hers. “We have many more sunrises to watch together.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Mercy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Indira scratched at Revasan’s head and stared across the fire at the other elf who had joined their party earlier today. Alistair had wasted no time at all in telling her that it was an enormous mistake to show the former Antivan Crow mercy. But Indira wasn’t sure that she agreed. Certainly she didn’t trust Zevran. She wasn’t stupid. But she understood what it was to be desperate. She’d felt desperate every day in the Circle. If Duncan hadn’t shown up when he did, she likely would have been made Tranquil. She’d seen an echo of that in Zevran’s eyes as he’d looked up at her after they had foiled his ambush. He was on the edge of the void, staring down at an abyss that would surely swallow him. Maybe it was the fact that they had shared that call of the void, but she couldn’t just kill him. He’d sworn his allegiance to her apparently without reservation...but they would soon see. Perhaps she would come to regret this show of mercy, but after all that she had seen, she would rather regret being merciful than not.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Youth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kiyaya Lavellan sat astride her horse, watching as the children chased each other through the crops near Master Dennets house. They looked so carefree, so happy. Even before she’d been made Inquisitor, Kiki didn’t remember ever feeling carefree. Her magic had manifested young and she had begun the arduous process that had led her to becoming the First of Clan Lavellan. She was to be Keeper one day. There was always something to learn. Something to practice. She couldn’t remember a single time that she’d ever felt young.<br/>
</p>
<p>At least, not until recently.<br/>
</p>
<p>She glanced aside at the man who rode next to her and felt the familiar stirring of butterflies. Solas made her feel very young indeed. There was something about his stillness and calm that made her stumble over her words and giggle when she did. The way he smiled at her lifted her spirits and the way that he lay with her...well, there were clearly lots of things for her to learn.<br/>
</p>
<p>“What is it, Vhenan?” Solas asked without looking at her.<br/>
</p>
<p>She turned and smiled at him. “Just thinking,” she said quietly. Not that Dorian and Iron Bull would hear her. They were busy disguising their flirting as bickering.<br/>
</p>
<p>“About anything in particular?” Solas asked.<br/>
</p>
<p>Kiki glanced at the children again and then smiled at Solas. “How much I still have to learn,” she teased.<br/>
</p>
<p>She saw the heat flare in his eyes and felt the answering rush of need in her body.<br/>
</p>
<p>“That is one of the things I admire about you,” Solas said, one of his eyebrows raising as he gave her a smile that made her want to tackle him off of his horse. “Your dedication to scholarship.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Ambush</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They were walking down a winding path on the Wounded Coast when Saoirse Hawke heard a suspicious sounding rustle in the bushes. She had scarcely gotten to yell to her companions when she was whirling around to face the snarling Tal Vashoth. She managed to duck under his blade, firing off a fireball as Fenris dived between them with a bellow of rage. The Tal Vashoth went down and Fenris grabbed Hawke and pulled her behind him as another one of the massive warriors attacked. Hawke heard Aveline and Varric behind her guarding the rear and she found herself grinning as the heat of battle took over. They made short work of the Tal Vashoth and when she stood over the last one panting, she found herself glancing over at Fenris. The elf was breathing hard and his eyes were hot when they met hers again.
</p>
<p>“You fought well, Hawke,” he rumbled, sending a little shiver through her. 
</p>
<p>“So did you,” she replied. He stepped closer and pulled her into a quick kiss while Aveline and Varric were looking over the bodies. She had to admit, there were worse outcomes to an ambush.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Beloved</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zuri looked down at the Iron Bull, who was stretched out on her bed with his leg propped up on a pillow. This was the trouble about being the significantly smaller partner. It had taken a lot of cajoling and even getting Krem involved to convince Bull to actually rest his bad knee. He was wary of letting healers deal with it at all, usually only going so far as to allow Stitches to apply the occasional poultice. But it spoke to how much pain he was in that tonight he had agreed to let her use her magic on him, and he was being a surprisingly good sport about it. He was eying her with only a little trepidation as her hands began to glow with her ice magic, and he tensed some as she rested her palm just below his kneecap. But soon he let out a surprised hiss and looked up at her with his eye wide. 
</p><p>“Kadan,” he whispered. “Fuck that feels good.” 
</p><p>She smiled at him and continued, encouraging the cold to work its way down through the inflammation until it had subsided a great deal. Then she simply sat for awhile, gently manipulating and massaging the joint. Finally she called upon the fires that burned eternally within her and began to ease heat into Bull’s knees as she resumed manipulating the significantly less swollen joint. 
</p><p>Bull was looking at her through an eye that was heavily lidded when she called a halt, and he reached for her and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her deeply, then rested his forehead against hers. “You’re incredible, Kadan,” he said. “Thank you.”
</p><p>Zuri smiled at her beloved, rubbing her nose against his. “Anytime, Kadan.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Luxury</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Saoirse Hawke was sitting on the floor holding a piece of firewood in her hands and staring into the fireplace when she heard Varric’s heavy footsteps behind her. He plopped down next to her and shook snow out of his hair before blowing into his hands and rubbing them together.
</p><p>“Hawke, it’s freezing outside. Light the fire already.”
</p><p>Hawke glanced over at him and then back down at the log. He was right. She knew that he was. But she had been sitting in front of her bedroom fireplace for almost an hour listening to the sleet lash the window, trying to convince herself to light the damn fire.
</p><p>“The fire’s lit downstairs for Copper,” she said softly. “And in Mother’s room. And the kitchens, and in Bodahn and Sandal’s quarters. That’s four fires lit. Four, Varric!”
</p><p>“All right, Hawke,” Varric said. “What’s on your mind?”
</p><p>She shook her head, looking down at the log. “Just feels wasteful, I guess.”
</p><p>“Oh Sweetheart,” Varric said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “I think that I understand.”
</p><p>“We had a home before,” Hawke said, idly peeling a piece of bark off of the firewood. “It wasn’t like the Amell Estate. It wasn’t anything huge or anything, but it was ours and then the Blight happened and we lost everything and now...now all I can think about is how many nights after we had to leave it that we were all so cold.” She felt one of Varric’s warm, strong hands close around hers. “I lit myself on fire one night by accident,” she recalled. “It was before I met Athenril, before we’d spent more than maybe two weeks in Kirkwall and Gamlen didn’t have any firewood. I held a flame for as long as I could so Mother would stop shivering.” She shook her head and traced her fingertips over the patch of smooth skin on the inside of her left wrist. “I fell asleep and before the flames went out they caught my sleeve.” 
</p><p>“You were exhausted,” Varric said, squeezing her hand. 
</p><p>“All the time,” Hawke said. It was hard to sleep when she could hear her mother crying, when she could hear Carver trying to keep her from hearing him crying. When she was choking down her own tears. Struggling to sleep every night as her stomach twisting in on itself, growling. Hating the sight of the empty fireplace because Gamlen was stingy about firewood and bitched at her every time she bought it. 
</p><p>“It’s so easy to lose everything,” Hawke said.
</p><p>“Hawke,” Varric turned, angling his body towards her and taking her other hand as well. “I won’t patronize you by saying I get it. I’ve never known the shit you and your family faced.” His kind eyes crinkled at the corners as he gave her a gentle smile. “But all that work we’ve done to invest the money from the Deep Roads...we’ve done that so that you and your family are safe.” He glanced down at the log. “You don’t have to light yourself on fire to keep everyone warm,” he said. “You can let the fireplace do its job.” His powerful hands, so astonishingly gentle when he wanted them to be, squeezed her hands.
</p><p>“It just feels decadent,” Hawke said, looking down. “Like a frivolous luxury that I shouldn’t take for granted.”
</p><p>Varric released her hands and eased the log out of her lap, tossing it into the grate. He reached into one of his innumerable pockets and drew out a flint, a striker, and a crumpled up piece of parchment bearing the Merchant’s Guild crest. He was quick to pile on some kindling and with a few strikes he had sparks. He had a merry little fire going in moments, and he wrapped his arm around Hawke’s shoulders.
</p><p>Hawke leaned against him, watching the flames. Was it possible that something that felt so out of reach and extravagant only a few months ago would ever become normal? She rested her cheek on his head. All she knew was that while she might one day come to take the fire for granted, the luxury of friendships like hers with Varric would never cease to amaze her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Cliff</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <strong>TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDAL THOUGHTS/IMPULSES</strong>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Saoirse Hawke listened to the sound of the surf crashing below and closed her eyes, letting the evening wind scour the tears from her face. Since her mother’s death a few days before, she hadn’t felt like all of the gears were quite...engaged. Sure they turned, she went through the motions. But they weren’t catching anywhere.
</p><p>And why should they?
</p><p>She’d lost her home, she’d lost her sister, the love of her life had left her before she’d ever even worked up the nerve to tell him how she felt, and then a monster had ended her mother’s life in way that had had her waking up every night screaming as she imagined the thing wearing her mother’s face coming after her.
</p><p>She’d gone for a walk to avoid sleeping and seeing the thing again, and her feet had taken her out to the Wounded Coast to this windswept cliff. She could hear the waves crashing below and knew that it was a long, long way down.
</p><p>She stepped a little closer to the edge, feeling oddly calm. There was a solution in front of her, if only she could take Flemmeth’s advice.
</p><p>“It’s a nice night.”
</p><p>Hawke jumped and felt a broad, strong set of fingers gently nudge open her clenched fist and lace through hers.
</p><p>“I hope you don’t mind the company,” Varric said mildly. “I was leaving the Hanged Man and saw you heading for the city gates. I hate to let a friend wander through spider-infested wilderness alone.”
</p><p>“You should have,” Hawke said, unable to look at him. Resentment warred with guilt inside of her. Why couldn’t he just let her go?
</p><p>Varric shrugged and gently tugged on her hand. “How often do I do what I ‘should’ do, Hawke?”
</p><p>She snorted in spite of herself. “I feel like the Merchant’s Guild could answer that better than I could.”
</p><p>“So cruel,” Varric said, pulling her into a hug. 
</p><p>Hawke leaned against him limply for a moment before wrapping her arms around him and hugging him back.
</p><p>She didn’t even realize she was crying until she let out a gasping sob.
</p><p>“It’s all right, Sweetheart,” Varric said gently. “I’ve got you.”
</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Hawke managed to force out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m just so tired, Varric and I can’t-I can’t breathe and I can’t fucking sleep and I don’t want to miss Fenris anymore when he’s right fucking there and I don’t want to keep seeing Mother when I close my eyes and I  can’t-”
</p><p>“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Varric said firmly. “Except for the terrible wine that you’re going to serve me once we’re back at your place. You have money now. You can buy the good stuff.”
</p><p>“I’m so tired of hurting,” she admitted and felt him sigh.
</p><p>“I’m not going to give you any excessive positivity that I don’t think will help right now,” Varric said. “But I will say this. You and I have a lot of weird shit to do together, stuff we haven’t even imagined yet. Isn’t that worth sticking around? For the stories?”
</p><p>Hawke felt how hard he was holding her, how his powerful arms shook and knew that she’d scared him badly. So, she swallowed hard and forced herself to nod.
</p><p>He pulled back a little and looked into her eyes, and in the full moonlight she could clearly see the doubt in his gentle gray eyes. “Even if you don’t entirely believe me now,” he said, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow and beginning the long walk back to Kirkwall. “I promise you, one day in the future you’ll buy me a drink and tell me I was right.”
</p><p>Hawke smiled wanly at him, but allowed herself to be lead away from the abyss. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Festival</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zuri Trevelyan leaned against the support pole of the market awning and watched as the man she loved made an unabashed spectacle of himself. The Bull’s Chargers had been invited as guests of honor to Harvest Festival in the Free Marches as a thank you for some work they had done for a local noble. They hadn’t planned to go, but then the noble’s young daughter had asked Mr. Krem if he could make a friend for the stuffed nug he’d made her. Poor Puddles was apparently lonely and the girl’s father had asked that they not inquire about the name. 
</p><p>Zuri grinned, watching as Bull knelt in front of a chubby toddler, slowly shaking his head back and forth so that the flower garlands draped from it tickled the child’s cheeks. The little boy squawked with laughter, batting at the garlands as his mother looked on indulgently, rubbing her hand over her swollen belly. 
</p><p>“More!” the boy said.
</p><p>Bull grinned at him. “You’ll have to ask your mom, little man,” he said.
</p><p>“Not little!” the child said. “Big! Gonna be big brother soon!”
</p><p>Bull inclined his head, holding up his hands. “Still, even big kids have to ask their moms.”
</p><p>“Is that why I have to check in before I so much as wipe my-” Krem coughed awkwardly and shot the child’s mother an apologetic look. 
</p><p>She just chuckled, shaking her head. “He’s heard worse,” she said. “Not to worry.”
</p><p>Zuri smiled at Krem, who came to stand next to her, watching as Bull hoisted the giggling toddler onto his shoulders.
</p><p>“CHARGE!” the boy yelled, and with a roar, Bull loped off to join the maypole dancers.
</p><p>Zuri couldn’t help it, she laughed out loud and heard Krem’s answering laugh join hers. 
</p><p>“You smile a lot more now, Your Worship,” Krem said, holding out a paper cone filled with roasted nuts to her.
</p><p>Zuri took a couple and popped one into her mouth, saving the blend of salt and sweetness. 
</p><p>“I’m happier now,” she said with a shrug. “It’s a lot easier to be Zuri than the Inquisitor.” She raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of which…”
</p><p>Krem flashed her a smile similar to the sassy one he often used with Bull. “I know, I know. It’s just weird to call you ‘Zuri’ after so long.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “I hope you know that I’m honored by the privilege though.”
</p><p>Zuri put her remaining hand on top of his. “The honor’s mine,” she said, and meant it. 
</p><p>“He makes me happy,” Zuri said after a few minutes of companionable silence. She and Krem had gotten to be quite close over the past several years of their acquaintance. 
</p><p>Krem flashed her a smile. “The feeling’s mutual.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Mentor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Indira tried not to glare as she looked ahead at the Gray Warden Duncan, who was leading her down the Kingsroad to a place called Ostagar. Armies were gathering there, he said, and it was important that they be among them. 
</p><p>Yet, when she had asked for details, Duncan had not been inclined to share much. He spoke often of duty, of the crucial role that Gray Wardens played in stopping the Blight, but little else. 
</p><p>Indira tugged her cloak around a little more tightly and shivered as rain trickled into the collar and down her neck, and despite herself, she yelped.
</p><p>She heard Duncan sigh ahead of her and the warden turned around, raising an eyebrow.
</p><p>“It was cold,” Indira said and hated how petulant she sounded. 
</p><p>She was expecting a rebuff, but to her surprise, his smile was kind. “Down the neck is the worst,” he said. “We’ll get you a better cloak in Lothering. This one wasn’t made for someone of your stature.” 
</p><p>“I wasn’t going to complain,” Indira said, tamping down the sudden spike of fear. If she proved to be a problem, he could always take her back to the Circle. She wasn’t a full Gray Warden yet, she knew that much. 
</p><p>“No, I don’t imagine you were,” Duncan said. “Not when your choices were this, or Tranquility.” 
</p><p>Indira gritted her teeth and looked away.
</p><p>“It’s not fair,” Duncan said, surprising her further. “The recruiting rarely is for the Wardens.” He shrugged. “I would not blame you for resenting me, all things considered.”
</p><p>“I do,” Indira said, the cold and the rain and the exhaustion and the uncertainty finally getting to her. 
</p><p>Duncan let out a soft chuff of laughter. “At least you are honest,” he said. Then he grew serious. “Resent me all you like, Indira Surana, as long as you mind the things I tell you. Then perhaps you will live long enough that we can finally hash that resentment out.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Silence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Indira sat with her back to the fire, enjoying the silence of the party camp as she kept her watch. Oh sure, there were sounds, Oghren and Revasan’s snores, the crackling of the logs in the fire, the wind through the trees, but to someone who had lived her whole life in the Circle Tower, it was blissfully quiet. There were always people around in the circle. Mages studying and practicing, Templars watching, apprentices scurrying back and forth. It was like an ant hive, always rusting with motion and voice. But here in the camp during the late night watch, she could pretend it was just her. The wind rushed across her shaved head, bringing with it the smell of snow. It made sense, as close to Soldier’s Peak as they were getting. Indira had to smile. Eight months ago she wouldn’t have known what the scent of snow was, or how it sifted down muting the sounds along with it. Standing in a forest as it snowed was something she didn’t know she loved until the first storm had caught them. The absolute stillness had been a balm to her spirit and she looked forward to experiencing it again. Indira sighed as she heard Sten’s armor creak, telling her he was approaching. One day when this was all over, maybe she would take Zevran somewhere just the two of them where they could just be silent.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Craft</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zuri grinned at Dagna as together they put the final touches on the present that Zuri was making for Bull. She had never expected to fall in love with Skyhold’s Undercroft, but over the past several weeks it had become her refuge. The sound of running water was soothing and down here...down here she could just be a person for a little bit. Harrit was respectful, but not deferential, and Dagna was, well...Dagna. She felt like an old friend, or a sister that actually liked her. Down here she could channel all of her fear and frustration into productive things like improving her and her companion’s equipment. Some time ago while exploring a mercenary fortress in the Hinterlands she had heard Iron Bull and Blackwall talking about what their ideal blades would be made from and Bull had mentioned that he found Dawnstone pretty. They had recently found quite a bite of the mineral while in the Emprise du Lion, and she’d taken it to her head to incorporate some dawnstone into his armor. Dagna had helped her with the fussy process of tinting Bull’s armor, and now...now it had a slightly pinkish hue. Zuri grinned and packed the armor away into the special box that Harrit had put together for her, hoisting it up onto her shoulder and heading for the main hall. Fuck embroidery. These were crafts she could get behind.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Drip</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Drip...drip…drip…</em>
</p><p>Zuri blinked as the icy water struck her forehead and trickled down towards her ear. Her body ached worse than she could ever recall it aching in her entire life. Her wrist felt like it was broken, as was at least one rib if the stitch in her side was any indication. Groaning, she dragged herself to a sitting position, wincing as she felt the dampness in her clothes. Where was she? She looked around and in the dim light saw only snow, ice, and rock. 
</p><p><em>Drip...drip…drip…</em>
</p><p>And then it came back to her. Haven. Corypheus. 
</p><p>The avalanche. 
</p><p>Fuck, but she hoped that everyone had gotten to safety by now, even if she never would. With a whimper of pain, Zuri lurched to her feet, holding her broken wrist against her as she began to stagger forward away from the sound of dripping water. She had to try to escape.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Grow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <strong>TRIGGER WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, NIGHTMARES </strong>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zevran looked down at the little bundle in his arms, marveling that something so tiny and pure could have come in any way from him. His little corazón. His daughter. He leaned his forehead against hers, smiling at the soft sound that she made in her sleep. Her breath smelled sweet as she yawned into his face. He would teach her...well, there were many things that he would teach her as she grew, and many that he would make sure that she would <em>never</em> have to learn. Together with his beautiful Gray Warden they would watch their daughter grow.
</p><p>But Gray Wardens couldn’t have children, Zevran realized. He knew that. Indira had told him that when they had begun to get serious. He turned to his sleeping wife, frowning.
</p><p>“Amora, I thought that you said-”
</p><p>His corazón opened her tiny mouth to yawn again, but this time what came out was the sound of the archdemon’s roar. Zevran lurched backwards and she slipped from his arms, and he could only watch helplessly as her body twisted and warped, growing into the massive winged form of Urthemiel before it slumped to the ground next to the body of the woman he would never hold in his arms again. </p><p>It opened its mouth as though it was going to roar again, but all that came out was an infant's plaintive wail. 
</p><p>Zevran sat bolt upright with a ragged sob, wincing as Revasan raised his head with a sad little whine. The Mabari padded over and jumped up onto the bed, draping himself over Zevran’s legs with a sigh. Wiping the tears from his face, Zevran reached out and scratched the big dog behind the ears. “I miss her too, my friend,” he said softly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Cornered</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zuri sighed at the sound of the balcony door opening behind her. She had come outside for a moment of peace following her somewhat disturbing conversation with her advisors. She couldn’t understand how Leliana could be so nonchalant about the possibility of just...letting the empress of Orlais die. She turned around, expecting to see Leliana, or perhaps Iron Bull, but instead found herself meeting the intense blue eyes of the one person she’d hoped never to see again.
</p><p>Symon Kneller.
</p><p>Ex-templar.
</p><p>Ex-fiance.
</p><p>He was between her and the door, and something about the set of his broad shoulders told her that his cornering her was extremely intentional.
</p><p>“Hello, Darling,” he said.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Myth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Saoirse Hawke sighed with pleasure as she tilted her head back, accepting the blazing heat from the summer sun. Somehow she had convinced her friends to join her at the beach. Next to her Varric was lounging on the picnic blanket with a cup of wine, watching indulgently as Isabela and Merril splashed in the waves. 
</p><p>“We should join them,” Fenris murmured and Saoirse shivered at the feeling of his lips against her ear. 
</p><p>“I thought that you weren’t supposed to swim after eating,” Hawke protested mildly as the elf pulled her to her feet.
</p><p>“That’s just a myth, Hawke!” Isabela called, splashing some water in her direction.
</p><p>Hawke grinned at her friends and let the man she loved lead her down to the lapping waves. “I expect you to fish me out if it’s not!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Hate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Saoirse Hawke gripped her staff and glared straight ahead, struggling to control the magic that was surging within her. More than she could ever recall in her life, she wanted to murder the person in front of her. Danarius was smiling at Fenris with a predatory sort of possessiveness that made her skin crawl. She hated the panic that she saw in her former lover’s eyes. She hated the way his shoulders rounded forward and his eyes dropped before he remembered himself and straightened. She hated the way that Danarius’ eyes wandered Fenris’ body and the flush of shame on the elf’s neck as he assiduously avoided her eyes. “Fenris doesn’t belong to anyone!” she growled, and saw the grateful look that Fenris shot her. She brought up her staff and called upon the magic within her. She would die before she would let Danarius lay a hand on Fenris again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Shelter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Saoirse tugged her cloak about her more tightly, wincing as a few drops of rain made their way down the back of her neck. She felt like she hadn’t been warm in an age. Next to her Fenris trudged along, constant and uncomplaining as ever, and Saoirse felt the warmth of tears on her face and hoped that the rain hid them. She’d been crying a lot lately it felt like. She didn’t deserve the loyalty of the man who walked with her. She was a murderer. A failed champion. She was nothing. She jumped when she felt Fenris’ hand on her waist, pulling her off of the road and away into a thick stand of conifers. The ground beneath them was mercifully dry and together they huddled as a massive clap of thunder sounded overhead. She felt Fenris’ fingers twine through hers as he brought her hand up to his lips.</p>
<p>“I remain at your side,” he said quietly. Hawke turned to him with a sob and found herself folded into his arms. He held her as she cried, murmuring comforting words to her as he stroked her back. “I always will.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Vintage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Indira gave Zevran a skeptical look as he popped the cork out of the bottle of wine and sniffed it appreciatively. He handed it to Wynne, who sighed happy when she brought it to her nose. “Oh my, Zevran,” the healer said, smiling. “I haven’t had this vintage in many, many years.”
</p><p>“It is almost as fine a vintage as yourself, my dear Wynne,” Zevran said, tipping the bottle over a little horn cup and smiling as the blood-red wine came out. 
</p><p>“You are shameless,” Wynne said, accepting the cup with an exasperated shake of her head.
</p><p>“My Gray Warden, would you care to try?” Zevran asked, holding a cup out to her. 
</p><p>Indira took it and sniffed, wrinkling her nose. It all smelled like rotten grapes to her. If she was going to drink, she definitely preferred whisky to wine. Still, Zevran looked so pleased with himself that she couldn’t bring herself to say anything negative. Instead she took a sip and somehow managed not to pull a face. 
</p><p>“Oh yes,” she said once she’d forced herself to swallow. “It’s a very fine vintage indeed.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Fruit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Saoirse twined her fingers through Fenris’ as the two of them made their way through the market, enjoying the simple act of affection as they browsed together. They were passing the fruit stall when she felt Fenris pause.
</p><p>“What is it, love?” she asked, looking up at him. Fenris was looking at a display of fresh strawberries, an odd look on his face. 
</p><p>“Do you know that I have never had a strawberry?” he said quietly. “Or any berry, for that matter. They are prohibitively expensive in Tevinter and most certainly not the kind of food that one feeds a slave.” His lip curled in a bitter parody of a smile. “Even so valuable a slave as myself.”
</p><p>Saoirse felt her heart ache at his words. It felt like they were forever finding simple things that Fenris had been denied.
</p><p>Right then Saoirse made a choice.
</p><p>“Give me all your strawberries,” she said to the vendor. “And those blackberries as well. Do you have any raspberries?”
</p><p>The vendor looked flustered, but the sight of gold snapped him into action. Soon Hawke’s market basket was groaning under the weight of the fruit and Fenris was staring down at her, wide-eyed. 
</p><p>“Hawke, you didn’t have to-”
</p><p>“I wanted to,” she said, grinning at him. “Come on, let’s go home and see what you like.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Glow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Saoirse came awake suddenly, blinking as she tried to discern what had awoken her. At first she thought that it was the storm outside, but after a moment she realized that there was a glow coming from outside the bed curtains. She was about to call her magic when she heard a ragged sob.
</p><p>“Fenris?” she called. “Love?”
</p><p>She heard him sniffle. “Go back to bed, Hawke,” he replied, his voice thick.
</p><p>“Not a chance,” she said, stepping out of the curtain. Her heart broke at the sight of the man she loved sitting in the corner with his back tucked into it and his legs pulled up tight against his chest. His tattoos were glowing blue, filling the room with their dim light. 
</p><p>“Nightmare?” Hawke asked, sitting down next to him but not touching him.
</p><p>He nodded.
</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. 
</p><p>“I was captured by slave hunters,” he said softly. “Sold back to Danarius. He was...very angry with me. It is a dream I have had before. Just not so...vividly.”
</p><p>“Can I touch you?” Hawke asked.
</p><p>Fenris nodded, but his tattoos flared when her fingers brushed his, deepening the glow in the room.
</p><p>Hawke withdrew her hand but scooted closer to him so that he could lean against her if he wanted. “Why don’t we just sit for awhile?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Laugh</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Well, darlings, doesn’t he look marvelous?”
</p><p>Zuri did her best not to make eye contact with Krem, knowing that if the two of them locked eyes that would be the end of it. Vivienne had been so excited to share her handiwork and it was not wise to anger Madame de Fer. 
</p><p>And laughing would definitely anger her.
</p><p>The Iron Bull was dressed in a doublet of deep purple, with silver slashing on the sleeves. The front of the doublet was open in a deep “v” that would have made Varric blush, and there were emerald accents at the lapels and buttons. 
</p><p>“It’s certainly striking,” Zuri managed to say with her best “Inquisitor” face. 
</p><p>“Yes,” Krem choked out. “Striking. Like a blow to the head,” he muttered.
</p><p>Vivienne’s eyes narrowed as Zuri only just barely managed to swallow the laugh that was trying desperately to claw its way out of her throat. 
</p><p>“What was that, Darling?” she asked, her voice dangerously pleasant.
</p><p>“I think I hear Dalish calling me,” Krem said before beating a hasty retreat. To the man’s credit, he made it out the door before he let out a long, joyful laugh.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Alone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Indira tugged her legs against her chest and closed her eyes, struggling not to give in to panic. Her cell smelled of mouldy hay and blood and all she could think of was how miserably, terrifyingly alone she was down in the bowels of Fort Drakkon. She trusted her companions to be wise enough not to send Alistair after her, no matter how much she knew her friend would want to. But Zevran would come, as would Sten, she was sure. She just had to hold on for a little longer. Somewhere in another cell she heard a scream that ended with the sound of a blow and then an awful gurgle. 
</p><p>
  <em>Creators, please don’t let me die here alone.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Revenge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Indira feigned sleep as the watches changed, knowing that Zevran would be back any moment. Sleep had been harder and harder for her to come by as the crushing reality of what they were trying to do weighed down on her like so many bricks. She just needed a moment of levity and she thought that she might have it tonight. Zevran was always able to catch her off-guard with a kiss but tonight, tonight she’d get him good. She focused on keeping her breathing even as he entered the tent and got settled next to her. Then, before he could react, she rolled over and straddled him. Beneath her she heard a breathless laugh and felt Zevran’s hands at her hips. 
</p><p>“What’s this, Amora?” he asked softly. “An ambush?”
</p><p>“Revenge is a dish best served cold, Amor,” she replied, leaning down and brushing her lips over his.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Teeth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zuri stared into the dragon’s maw, frowning. How the fuck was she supposed to choose just one? It was meant to be worn as a necklace, which meant that it couldn’t be one of the enormous fangs at the front of the beast’s mouth. 
</p><p>Not that Bull wouldn’t love that. 
</p><p>No, it had to be a reasonably sized one, which meant one of the ones further back.
</p><p>With a sigh, Zuri rolled up her sleeves and leaned into the wet, stinking maw. The things she did for love.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Flower</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“For me?” Indira asked as Zevran held out a lovely orange flower.
</p><p>“No offense to our dear Alistair or our taciturn Qunari friend, but you are the loveliest person here,” Zevran said. “I only wanted to give you a simple token of my affection.”
</p><p>Indira brought the flower to her nose and inhaled deeply, only to find herself immediately consumed by a paroxysm of sneezing. 
</p><p>Somewhere in the distance she heard Alistair chuckle before one of his frequently-darned handkerchiefs was thrust into her hands. 
</p><p>“Thanks Zevran,” Indira managed to wheeze, hoping he heard her over Alistair’s laughter and Sten’s amused snort. “It really was lovely.”
</p><p>“Brasca!” Zevran muttered.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Costume</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m not sure that I understand the purpose of this,” Fenris said, sounding skeptical. 
</p><p>Hawke grinned at him and adjusted her hat. “Come on, Fenris, it’s fun!”
</p><p>“Is it?” he asked. 
</p><p>“Tell you what,” Hawke said, taking a deep breath before stepping out into her room. “Take a peek at my costume and you tell me.”
</p><p>Fenris’ eyes went wide as he looked at her. She had borrowed one of Isabela’s tunics for a pattern and a very amused Edwina had made her something similar in a deep scarlet. Gordon had made her the most obnoxious black and silver “pirate” hat that they could envision together.  The feather alone was as long as her arm. 
</p><p>“What do you think?” she asked, aware of how low-cut the tunic was as she watched Fenris drag his eyes up to her face.
</p><p>“I am sensing a theme,” he said, gesturing down to his own outfit. He had borrowed a shirt from Varric and tucked it into his tight-fitting trousers, wrapping one of Hawke’s scarlet scarves around his waist. “Shall we take to the high seas, Kadan? See if we can give Isabela a run for her money?”
</p><p>She grinned at him and stepped closer, looking up into his eyes. 
</p><p>“First maybe we could...walk the plank?” she asked, glancing down at the bulge in his trousers.
</p><p>Fenris groaned, but there was a smile on his face as he pulled her in for a kiss. “Another joke like that and I’ll have you keelhauled,” he retorted.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Midnight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zuri glared down at the pile of papers from Josephine. She had been at it for ages it felt like, but the pile didn’t seem to be getting smaller. But no one had come in, at least not that she recalled. 
</p><p>“Fuck,” Zuri muttered, raking her fingers through her curls. 
</p><p>“That might be the break you need, Kadan.”
</p><p>Zuri yelped and looked up at Iron Bull’s chuckle. 
</p><p>“It’s after midnight, Zuri,” Bull said.
</p><p>“Shit, no way!” Zuri said. “I’m sorry, Bull. I was supposed to be down three hours ago.”
</p><p>He walked over and stood behind her massaging her shoulders. “How long have you been working?” he asked.
</p><p>She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. “Since before the sun went down,” she admitted. “Late afternoon, maybe?”
</p><p>His powerful fingers made their way to the base of her skull and Zuri couldn’t have kept from letting out a little moan of pleasure if she’d tried. Bull worked his way back and forth across her scalp. “It’s time to be done, Kadan,” Bull said. “You need to rest. Eat some dinner.”
</p><p>“I have so much to do,” Zuri said, looking down at the piles. 
</p><p>“It will all be there tomorrow,” Bull said. 
</p><p>“I don’t think that makes me feel better,” Zuri said with a tired laugh. The laugh turned into a giggle as Iron Bull scooped her up and carried her away from her desk. 
</p><p>“I think I can make you feel better,” Bull said, tossing her down on her bed.
</p><p>Zuri looked up at him with her eyes wide and her most innocent smile. “But it’s after midnight,” she said as he took hold of her trousers and pulled them down. “I should sleep!”
</p><p>“And I have the perfect way to wear you out,” Bull replied, leaning in to kiss her tenderly. “Then I promise, you’ll have the best sleep of your life.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Treat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Amora?”
</p><p>Indira looked up from where she was mending her breeches, smiling. “Just trying to get this done,” she said. “But I always have a minute for you.”
</p><p>Zevran grinned at her and sank down next to her with the annoying grace that always made her feel coltish. “You work too hard, Indira,” he said, leaning over and kissing her cheek. “I have come to distract you as only I can.”
</p><p>She raised an eyebrow, feeling a thrill go through her body. “Going to ravish me, eh?”
</p><p>“A most tempting idea,” Zevran said. “And indeed, that was my nefarious plan for later. But first I wished to give you something than an orgasm that wakes the camp.”
</p><p>Indira laughed and swatted his shoulder. “You are shameless!”
</p><p>“I was given to understand that was something you enjoyed about me,” Zevran teased back. 
</p><p><em>It’s something I love about you</em>, Indira thought, but did not say. Things were so perfect between them as it was. She didn’t want to ruin it. “You understood correctly,” she said instead. “So what was your plan?” 
</p><p>To her surprise, the tops of his cheeks colored as he pulled his hand out from behind his back. There was a linen cloth wrapped around an object the size of a deck of cards. He handed it to her, his golden eyes searching hers.
</p><p>She unwrapped the cloth and gasped. Inside was a white piece of cheese with an oddly chalky looking exterior and a soft, goey interior. 
</p><p>“You found brie!” Indira whispered. 
</p><p>Zevran smiled, his whole face lighting up. "I remember that it was something you had gotten during some sort of celebration at the Circle."
</p><p>“I told you that ages ago,” Indira said softly. “That night that you and Oghren teased Alistair into listing his favorite types of cheese.”
</p><p>“The boy does like his cheese,” Zevran said wryly. “Which is why I had to sneak this past him. Revasan took a bribe for silence.”
</p><p>“Of course he did,” Indira said, smiling. “Thank you, Zevran. What a wonderful treat. I hope that you’ll share it with me.”
</p><p>His eyes widened fractionally and his answering smile was so genuine she realized she’d taken him by surprise. 
</p><p>“I would like that,” Zevran said. “I would like that very much.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Need</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zuri gritted her teeth and forced herself forward a few more steps. There were several members of the Antaam ahead doing their best to drive Bull and Cassandra into the ground while Varric rained punishment down on them from somewhere behind her. The mark was throbbing with agony and she knew if she could just get a little closer, she could knock the attacking qunari down.
</p><p><em>Please Maker just let me get a little closer.</em>
</p><p>Her fingers thrummed with energy in a far more unpleasant way than the usual way her magic felt. She’d had her magic for so long that it breathed with her. But this...this was constant and agonizing and uncontrolled and the last time she’d felt anything even close to it she had been six years old and terrified of the flames she could call at will. 
</p><p>But even then, even then she could snuff the flames. They didn’t constantly burn and demand her attention. But the Anchor...the Anchor demanded her attention.
</p><p>And the longer she left it, the more she needed to release the horrible tension of the power that continued to build. Because if she didn’t, if she didn’t it would just go off whether or not she willed it and it would hurt her and the people she loved.
</p><p>So Zuri staggered forward towards the members of the Berisaad until one almost took her head off with an ax and she heard Bull scream her name in the ragged voice that told her that he was actually afraid. 
</p><p>And then she finally let go of her control and gave into her need and let the Anchor’s energy explode.
</p><p>The next thing she knew Bull was tenderly helping her to her feet, his heavy brow furrowed. “You good, Kadan?” he asked, giving the Anchor a worried look.
</p><p>She winced, clutching her arm to her chest as though it was broken. “Yeah, Kadan,” she said, hearing how hoarse she sounded and knowing he heard it too. “I’m good.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Flight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Indira staggered over to where her fellow Gray Warden lay next to the massive stinking corpse of the ogre and fumbled at her waist for a healing poultice. 
</p><p>But they were gone.
</p><p>The fight up the Tower of Ishal had been so intense, the final fight with the ogre so taxing, that she’d lost count of her potions.
</p><p>And now she was all out and the darkness was rapidly closing in.
</p><p>She collapsed to her knees next to Alistair, her hand on the deep gash in her side, and cried out when her strength left her and she fell to the floor. Darkness closed in around her faster than she would have imagined, but in the darkness she wasn’t alone.
</p><p>She heard a voice that was familiar, though she couldn’t place it, tutting over her and Alistair. And then there was a great sound, like the snap of a market awning in the wind but so...much...bigger. </p><p>Something huge and strong closed around her body, firm but oddly gentle, and then there was a great CRASH and suddenly she felt herself lifted through the air. The chill wind raked across her scalp and tugged at her robes and it was only a moment before her fingers and toes were numb.
</p><p>Her eyes fluttered open and she saw above her the form of a massive purple dragon, it’s huge wings rising and falling as it bellowed a challenge into the night. She knew that it was not the Archdemon. It’s head was more delicate, it’s fangs less protruding, and its body did not have the glossy black scales that the beast she’d seen during her Joining.
</p><p>But it was still a dragon carrying her away, flying her over the horror that was the battlefield of Ostagar.
</p><p>And there was nothing she could do about it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Reflection</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zuri stared into the mirror and found herself wondering what Josephine had been thinking. When she’d been told that they were finally going to the Winter Palace she would have been lying if she said she wasn’t excited at the prospect of finally getting to wear a pretty dress instead of armor. Dressing up had always been a guilty pleasure of hers, and she’d gotten few chances while in the Circle and even fewer since becoming the Inquisitor. No, she always wore her silver armor around Skyhold at Iron Bull’s insistence because “assassins were everywhere and it was better to be safe than sorry”. And she wore her silverite armor that she and Dagna had made while out on mission, though that choice she didn’t begrudge. Outside Skyhold bears, rather than assassins, were everywhere. 
</p><p>But she was going to an honest to goodness ball and she’d been expecting to wear a gown. 
</p><p>Certainly it would be something sensible, nothing too garish or ostentatious. But she’d finally get to feel pretty and keep her promise to Bull that he’d see her in a fancy gown.
</p><p>But no.
</p><p>No.
</p><p>The Inquisition was, at its heart, a military organization, Josie had argued. What they wore to the Winter Palace should reflect that as well as the unity of its agents. 
</p><p>So instead of a dress, Zuri was in a horrid red dress uniform with gold epaulettes and gold accents at the buttons. She wore matching gloves of gold-colored leather with a matching belt over a deep blush sash at her waist. 
</p><p>She looked like a child’s carved soldier and she was grumpy about it. 
</p><p>“Kadan?”
</p><p>She sighed and turned away from her reflection. “Come in, Bull.” 
</p><p>The Iron Bull entered her chamber and grinned at her, gesturing down at his matching outfit. “Well, at least we all match,” he teased. 
</p><p>“I look like a child’s toy,” she grumbled as he came to her.
</p><p>He shook his head, sliding his arms around his waist. “Nah,” he said cheerfully. “No child’s toy is this hot.”
</p><p>She laughed despite herself and then gave him a rueful smile. “I was hoping to wear a dress for you,” she admitted. “You know, look pretty for once.”
</p><p>Bull reached down and cupped her chin, giving her a tender smile that made her knees feel a little watery. “Kadan, you could wear a potato sack and still be the sexiest woman in the room.” He leaned down and kissed her before straightening up and adjusting her collar. “You ready to do this thing?” he said, offering her his arm.
</p><p>She grinned up at him, her spirits much lighter, and took his arm. “Let’s go kick some ass.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading and I hope that you enjoyed!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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